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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29934678">the night we met</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacquiparle/pseuds/Lacquiparle'>Lacquiparle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we love or we do not love each other [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Broadchurch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drunken Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:46:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,999</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29934678</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacquiparle/pseuds/Lacquiparle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunken nights lead to bad decisions.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we love or we do not love each other [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022854</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the night we met</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was sat on the toilet in the CID loo, elbows rested on her knees, staring at the two pink bleak lines.  In that moment, the fluorescent lights drab and unwelcoming, the two lines indicated something ominous; like they were blinking an awful truth at her.</p>
<p>She tossed the test into the metal trash labeled for “sanitary napkins,” and cradled her arms feebly about her shoulders.  An attempt to draw herself in closer. </p>
<p>It wasn’t like any of this was planned or intended, but words and thoughts sprinted through her mind as she attempted to calculate what the next steps were.  <em>Call the doctor.  Tell Beth.  Tell the boys.  No.  Don’t tell the boys</em>. </p>
<p><em>Don’t tell anyone</em>.</p>
<p>She moaned and wondered if at that moment she could erase memories and past actions and altercations in her life that occupied a course into her life that she wasn’t ready for. </p>
<p>She didn’t immediately leave the loo.  Instead, she ran water over her face and stared vacantly at her visage.  She remembered when she and Joe tried for Fred and how elated she felt. </p>
<p>How strange this seemed, this alien entity inside her body.  Unwanted and unwelcomed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She wasn’t sure if it was the pregnancy or the rapid onset of reflections that caused her brain to become foggy for the rest of the day, but at half past two she asked Hardy if she could leave early.  He leaned back in his chair and gazed at her reflectively before giving his approval.</p>
<p>“Do you want me to stop by later?”  He asked before she had time to leave his office.</p>
<p>She hadn’t added him to the list of people to discuss this situation with.  Of all the people to tell, it did seem prudent to tell Hardy. </p>
<p>“Miller?” </p>
<p>She was still standing in his office, her gaze flummoxed.  Maybe tonight wasn’t the night, she reasoned, but he was good company.  <em>Isn’t that how you got yourself into this mess?</em> </p>
<p>Fred sure enjoyed him. </p>
<p>“Are you bringing dinner by?”  She finally asked.</p>
<p>He smirked and she wondered if that was her consent.  She was too tired to deliberate.  Besides she needed to call her doctor and make an appointment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Instead she phoned Beth from the car.  She parked on the side of the road, barely managing to skid her tires and break out into tears before ringing her closest friend.</p>
<p>“El, what is it?”  Beth’s voice ascended to crisis counselor mode, and at that moment, Ellie resented her.  She wanted her friend, not a counselor.</p>
<p>“I’m pregnant.”  She sobbed.  Ellie hadn’t told Beth about the preceding events or who the father was, but instead cried into her mobile as Beth talked to her in that voice.  “Listen, I just need someone who I can vent to.”  She finally sniffled.</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah.” </p>
<p>“I don’t know what to do.  I can’t keep it.” </p>
<p>“Do you know who the dad is?”  Beth finally asked.</p>
<p>Ellie hesitated, hiccupping before admitting she did.  There was a gruesome silence between the two women, a moment where Ellie knew that Beth figured it out.  A judgement passed before Beth reconciled that everyone makes mistakes and we move on.</p>
<p>“Does he know?”</p>
<p>“No.  Of course not.  It was an accident.”</p>
<p>“Fucking him or the pregnancy?”</p>
<p>Ellie didn’t respond.  She didn’t know how. </p>
<p>“What do I do?  I’m not twenty anymore.” </p>
<p>Both she and Beth had entered marriages because of accidental pregnancies, but at forty-four, people didn’t do that sort of thing. </p>
<p>“I won’t judge your choice, El, but you need to tell him.”  </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before the boys came home, Ellie quickly picked up the house, tossing clothes into hampers and shoving miscellaneous items under beds and into closets.  Hardy knew the Miller house was in a perpetual state of chaos, but it was easier to hide the turmoil and misery than face certain issues head-on. </p>
<p>They weren’t dating; a fact that she had been insistent on.  She liked that he went on “cheeky” dates and she even occasionally helped him with his Tinder profile, offering to take enticing photos of him or help with him texting potential dates.  The idea only irritated him, and he would often stomp off, a mug of tea in hand. </p>
<p>Her propensity to keep him at arm’s length gradually waned after he invited her to the pub and she said yes.  Her dad was watching the boys that night, and several drinks in, Ellie and Hardy were relatively tipsy. </p>
<p>“How is it going with, er, Karen?”  She asked, taking a long swig of her lager. </p>
<p>Hardy scrunched up his nose.  “Who the hell is Karen?”</p>
<p>“I thought you were seeing some lass named Karen.”  She enunciated the name to sound like his Scottish brogue.</p>
<p>He peered down into his whiskey, suddenly somber.  She laughed and when some pop song blasted over the speakers, she dragged him onto the dance floor. </p>
<p>“I bet you move like a spider.” </p>
<p>They drank and they danced and they laughed and they drank some more until Ellie’s head was indented on his shoulder and his hands were moving up and down her back. </p>
<p>“This is nice,” she murmured into his shirt, her dark brown eyes looking up at him, his stoically avoiding hers.  “Alec,” she whispered, and he couldn’t help himself.  He looked down at her. </p>
<p>She smiled, her eyes hazy, and she leaned up to kiss him, mistakenly hitting his chin.</p>
<p>“Ellie, you’re drunk.”</p>
<p>She frowned and sloppily slapped his arm, “I am not.”  She was unsteady on her feet but managed to drag him to the hallway where the toilets were.  “Kiss me, Alec Angus Hardy.”</p>
<p>“What?  That’s not my middle name.” </p>
<p>She laughed and pulled him to her, kissing the corner of his mouth. </p>
<p>“Ellie.”  He tenderly pulled her from him, holding her hands in his own.  And then he whispered to her.  “I want this, god, I want this,” and he held his forehead against hers, “just not like this.” </p>
<p>He hoped she wouldn’t remember this moment, too drunk to realize how much he loved her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hardy showed up to her house that evening with a pizza and salad, gently knocking at her door.  Through the door, he could hear Fred dashing to let him in, yelling that “Uncle Alec” was there with pizza.  The young boy with the ruddy cheeks and cherubin curls opened the door and smiled up at Hardy, almost immediately asking if the elder man wanted to watch a movie. </p>
<p>“Freddy, don’t pester him!” </p>
<p>She was behind her son, clearing the way to allow Hardy into the house, but Fred was jumping up and down. </p>
<p>“It’s alright,” Hardy said quietly to her and told Fred he’d love to watch a movie. </p>
<p>Tom trundled down the stairs and seemed to smell out the new scent in the air as if he knew.  Sometimes sons are like that.  When he looked at his mum and DI Hardy, Ellie coyly moving a bit of hair behind her ear, she immediately dropped her arm at the sight of her eldest child. </p>
<p>“Tom!  DI Hardy’s just stopped round for some dinner,” she informed Tom and her voice shook. </p>
<p>Tom’s eyes narrowed and he mumbled “thanks” before he stalked into the kitchen.  Instinctively, Ellie’s arms confined her middle, hoping to hide her guilt. </p>
<p>They ate mostly in silence, Fred carrying the conversation and darting rather swiftly from one topic to another.  Tom’s attention was limited to his phone, but occasionally, he regarded his mum and then DI Hardy. </p>
<p>For her part, Ellie kept her eyes lowered to her plate.  An afternoon of apprehensive thoughts produced an evening of exhaustion and all she could think about was crawling into her bed and sleeping. </p>
<p>“I’m going to finish my homework,” Tom suddenly announced, picking up his plate and grabbing his mum’s, a first.  He must know something, Ellie wondered.  His boyish face knotted into a swift smile before he dropped the plates into the sink.  He mumbled another thanks at Hardy and then sauntered off to his room. </p>
<p>In between Fred shuffling pizza into his mouth, Hardy asked Ellie if she was alright.  His hand reached for hers before he hesitated. </p>
<p>“Yeah, just tired.  Long day.” </p>
<p>She didn’t know when she would tell him or if she should.  Get rid of it, she kept telling herself.  If Hardy knew, he would do the right thing, whatever that entailed. </p>
<p>Once the dishes were done, they agreed on <em>The Incredibles</em>.  Hardy watched with earnest, although Fred insisted on chattering away complete with sound effects.</p>
<p>Ellie faded in and out of sleep, her thoughts a jumbled mess. </p>
<p>After hers and Hardy’s night out, she awoke with a splitting headache at half three in the morning in her own bed.  She was dressed in her clothes from the night before, but something felt amiss.  She dragged herself out of bed, looking for water and an aspirin. </p>
<p>Downstairs, she found Hardy asleep on her couch, his arms folded across his chest, his suit wrinkled.  She drank a glass of water and swallowed an aspirin before she stood in front of him, staring. </p>
<p><em>What a strange man</em>, she thought.  She couldn’t help leaning over and brushing his hair from his forehead.  If she was honest with herself, he wasn’t bad looking. </p>
<p>Sluggishly, his eyes opened, and he stared ahead before they caught her.  He reached up with a finger and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.</p>
<p>“Everything alright, Miller?” </p>
<p>“Why didn’t you go home?”  She asked, setting herself by him on the couch.</p>
<p>He yawned, not quite awake enough to formulate an answer.  “Wanted to make sure you were okay.” </p>
<p>She reached over him, bracing herself.  “What do you mean?” </p>
<p>“You were pretty drunk, Miller.  Didn’t seem right to leave you alone.” </p>
<p>“I wasn’t alone.  Dad is here.”  Ellie smiled.  What a strange man indeed.  “You’re funny, Alec.” </p>
<p>“Alec?”  He articulated his name differently, enunciating the syllables.  “I like how you say my name.”  He dreamily smiled.    </p>
<p>“Really?”  She reached down and touched his hand.  “Alec.” </p>
<p>“Are you still drunk?” </p>
<p>“I do have a splitting headache.” </p>
<p>“You should probably go back to bed then.”  He closed his eyes, letting his head melt into the couch, presumably falling back asleep. </p>
<p>Ellie bit her lip, thinking.  “You should come upstairs with me.” </p>
<p>His eyes shot open.  “What?” </p>
<p>The alcohol still flowered through her bloodstream, giving her enough of an edge to place her hand on Hardy’s chest.  She wanted to say something flirtatious, like, <em>you heard me</em>, but instead she just repeated his name, hopeful he understood the hint.  He hated his name, but apparently liked how she said it. </p>
<p>He blinked at her and then followed her up to her room.</p>
<p>Back in the present moment, in her surreal state, her eyes fluttered open and she realized Hardy was standing above her.  She blinked several times, taking his figure in and then rubbed her eyes momentarily. </p>
<p>“I put wee Fred to bed for you.  Not sure what Tom is up to.”</p>
<p>“The movie over?”  She asked.</p>
<p>Hardy nodded.  “Figure I’d be off.”</p>
<p>She ought to tell him, give him the option to have a say in the matter.  She watched him walk toward the door, her own body still fixed to the chair. </p>
<p>She could always tell him tomorrow or the next day or never tell him and live with the memory of their night together which produced an ill-timed fate. </p>
<p>Tom was a coincidence that she desperately wanted.  <em>A mistake</em>, Joe had said before they agreed they unanimously wanted him. </p>
<p>Out of her periphery, she heard the door open and before she could think, she said Hardy’s name. </p>
<p>“Alec,” she said. </p>
<p>He closed the door and she could already see the anticipation blossoming on his face.  He didn’t move from his position just as she didn’t reposition herself.  It was easier this way. </p>
<p>He took a deep breath and then every fear and worry and cause for anxiety left Ellie’s mind.</p>
<p>And with that, she told him.   </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I like challenging myself as a writer and I am not a fan of this particular trope, so I thought... why not write it!  It's totally cool if it's your thing.  I don't like the trope because a past fandom I was in really overdid it and the fics were absolutely asinine.  Like, magical baby type stories.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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